August 12th 2011 Tim Candler
Those where the days. I
could remember a telephone number, and I could remember a postal code.
Then out of the blue an officiousness requires at least a zip code in
order to conclude a financial transaction. "It's for your own
security," it says.
For myself, I would feel a great
deal safer if I could avoid being reminded that probably in a
month or two I'll be staring at a mirror introducing myself.
Fortunately I carry bits of
information with me at all times. Not in my brain, you understand,
because that place is full up. But on a piece of paper in the pocket
of my go to town trousers.
Then you wait for the traffic light, trying
not to look at the people on their mobile telephones reporting you to world
leaders, and you remind yourself to never put your good trousers through the
ordeal of a washing. It's not fair to the trousers nor the content of